“Well, actually, yes,” my dad says, looking mildly surprised. “Castor made it very clear that you wanted nothing to do with the Làidir. I believe the term ‘lone wolf’ was thrown around some.”
Lone wolf. You know, at one point, I would have been proud to wear the title. Now, it just makes me feel like a douchebag. I mean, where has riding solo gotten me, anyway? The wrong parties. The wrong beds. The wrong battles.
“The war will never be over,” I tell them all, looking at each person in turn. My mother. My father. Gentry. “You really think I’m going to stop fighting?”
My father beams at me, clearly thrilled with the answer.
Gentry, though—his expression is unreadable. “What exactly are you proposing, Miss Gallagher?”
Alone, I’m nothing. But with the Underking at my side? The Slayborn, my people? I can finally do what I was born to do. And that’s not getting revenge, or killing evil—it’s creating peace.
“I don’t want to be a part of the Làidir,” I say, and my father’s face falls a fraction. “And I don’t want to be a part of the Unseelie Court.” This time, it’s Gentry who looks perturbed. I draw in a deep breath, staring up into his steely eyes. “I want to be a part of both.”
For a few beats, the room remains silent. And then, a single nod.
“A knight of the Court and a Slayborn of the Làidir,” Gentry mutters. “It’s fitting. But I’m afraid you’re not ready yet.”
I move to sit, indignant, but once again forget about the big fuckoff stab wound in my shoulder. I slam back into the pillow with a cringe, massaging around the bandaging.
“What do you mean, not ready?” I snarl. The words don’t sound nearly as vicious when I’m dressed in a medical gown and surrounded by a cloud of pillows.
“I mean,” Gentry says, infuriatingly calm, “that you’re not ready. Not quite yet.”
He offers no further explanation. Instead, he begins to unbutton his tunic. I can see my mother flush, averting her eyes, while my father is clearly deciding whether or not to say anything on the matter. But Gentry only unbuttons down to his abdomen, pulling aside the fabric of his tunic to reveal a rock-hard pectoral. And there, tattooed against his skin, is a deep blue rose surrounded in a circle of thorns.
“All Unseelie knights bear the mark,” he says. “Just as all Slayborn bear theirs.”
My father steps up beside Gentry, pulling away his own shirt to reveal a tattoo on the opposite side of his chest—the same one that I remember seeing on Castor the day that we met. Dagda’s harp in a Celtic knot, encircled by a never ending cycle of hands clasping hands.
“Bearing the mark is a lifelong commitment,” Gentry continues. “Are you ready to dedicate the rest of your days to this cause? To both my people and yours?”
I take a deep breath. “I am.”
Gentry nods, reaching into his pocket to produce a small vial of ink, and then, a glinting silver needle. I’m not gonna lie. Just the sight of the thing is already starting to make me rethink this commitment.
But I steel myself, gritting my teeth and giving Gentry a shallow nod. He settles himself on the bed next to me, undoing the first two fastenings of my gown. He draws it back almost impossibly gently, brushing against the smooth, unblemished skin underneath. He spares me one last glance, as if asking, ‘Ready?’
I nod.
Gentry bites his tongue as he works, brow furrowed in concentration. He works with expert precision, deft fingers pricking the ink into my skin in quick succession. I barely even feel it, but still, I don’t dare look down. Not until he draws back, a satisfied look on his face. My father wanders to the other side of the room, grabbing a hand mirror from the dresser standing there. He holds it out in front of me, angled so that I can see.
On one side of my chest, just above the swell of my breast—the Slayborn sigil. On the other, that of the Unseelie. For the first time, both side by side in harmony.
The war isn’t over. I know this. I don’t know if it will ever really be. But sitting here, surrounded by parents, friends, allies—lovers?—well, it may not be perfect.
But it sure as hell beats being alone.
From the Author
I hope you enjoyed Slayborn 1! The best way you can help me continue telling this tale is to leave a review! Also come on by Facebook and say hi! Or…
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Love you all loyal readers!!! Check out my other series Magic Academy for Troubled Monsters while you wait for Slayborn 2! Muah!
Slayborn Page 18